


It's Fine

by erentitanjaeger



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Teacher student au, ereri, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/erentitanjaeger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isn’t that a cliché for you; the teacher falling in love with the student.  I hated myself for it.  I hated how I wasn’t just romantically attracted to him anymore, but physically as well.  Mornings became awkward for me as I found myself having more cold showers than warm.  Though I was ashamed to say sometimes I just didn’t even bother and gave in, imaging his breath on my face and his hand around me as I pumped myself under the sheets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Fine

**Author's Note:**

> More ideas taken from things that I don't own 8D
> 
> This was so very heavily inspired by The Garden of Words (oh my fuck that animation unf).

We are told sometimes we need to sacrifice a part of ourselves in order to love. But what if some of us need to learn to stop sacrificing ourselves entirely, in order to love in the first place? 

~~~

I’m kind of hoping he’s not there. I’m kind of hoping I won’t turn the corner to find him waiting for me, with those bright green eyes and that beautiful smile on his lips. I’m kind of hoping he won’t be sitting there, two small, plastic boxes filled to the brim with food beside him. I’m kind of hoping he won’t be doing his homework or procrastinating, like all teenagers do, and be playing a video game. I’m kind of hoping I won’t have to listen to his stories about his annoying older sister and his pushy father. 

But more than that, I’m kind of hoping he will be there. That for another hour of my week I can look at this young face and his perfect teeth. That I can pretend I’m reading my book while I’m actually looking over the rim of the pages and gazing at his mussy hair that’s getting damper and damper with the perspiration in the air. I’m kind of hoping he’ll ask me for help with his homework just so I have an excuse to sit closer to him. I’m kind of hoping he brought those sweet omelette rolls today.

So I can’t really tell whether I’m disappointed or excited when I walk over the small bridge and find him in the exact same place I’ve found him for the past six months. Sitting there, shoulders hunched, starring at the ground with his school bag sitting between his legs. I know what comes next. 

He’ll hear my footsteps approach him. He’ll blink twice before straightening his back and looking up at me, his lips spreading across his face in a soft grin. His grin will go even wider as I approach and he’ll watch me as I fold up my umbrella and take a seat on the one adjacent to his.

Sure enough, the sound of the damp gravel beneath my feet announces my presence. There are those eyelashes, fluttering over tanned cheeks. There’s that action of his back straightening, his smile that I see even behind my eyelids every time I close them. Those teal orbs watch my every movement as I come closer and closer to him.

“Morning, Mr. Rivaille,” comes his sweet voice. I only give him a small chuckle as I sit down.

“Good morning, Mr. Jaeger. Shouldn’t you be in school?” I reply, crossing my legs and bouncing my foot as I lean back into the rotting wood of the overhanging’s bench. The rain sounds like pieces of glass against the tin roof of the overhanging, the wind on the back of my neck reminding me that, once again, I’ve forgotten my scarf.

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

It’s a small joke that we have between us; one of the only things I’ve let him keep from these visits that have, somehow, become a habit. 

Our first meeting, because I can still remember it so clearly, didn’t go nearly as well. It had been raining, like it was today, and I was staring out the train window, wondering when was the last time I had seen such a downpour. It had been so unexpected too. I don’t watch the weather forecasts and with all these tall buildings around, it’s almost impossible to see the sky in the distance. 

I used to live in the country, where you would be able to see an oncoming storm for miles. I remember seeing the grey clouds in the distance, watching them for a few hours before deciding that, yes, they were headed this way. I’d grab my deck chair, my thermos and my coat and I’d sit on the porch. Once the storm hit, all I would do is sit there, letting the wind brush my cheeks and the tea warm my fingers, listening to the way the rain hit and wet the world around me.

I’d missed the rain so much when I had moved to the city, so it only took me a few moments of indecision before I was grabbing my phone and calling the school’s office, telling them they’d have to get someone to cover my first class as the trains were all backed-up due to the weather. All that was complete bull; but I wanted to enjoy the rain like I used to.

So I had gotten off one stop before I needed to, flicked up my coat collar so it was covering my neck, and walked down the block to the park I knew about from a magazine. Sure enough, it was just as I had pictured it would look in such beautiful weather. I was strolling leisurely along the path, wondering if there were an overhanging around that I could sit and enjoy the rain under.

I found one, along with one of my students, who also seemed to be skipping his first class; except he didn’t smile when he saw me. He had turned his face and I had watched his skin turn white at the sight of the very teacher he was avoiding. 

I was shocked, for a moment, before I decided that it wouldn’t do me any good to scold him for skipping my class when I was doing the exact same thing. I walked up to the overhanging and his bright, green eyes looked up at me with fear in their core. I was about to tell him not to worry when he opened his mouth and spoke first.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

It had confused me at first, before I realised he had thought the school had sent me. I chuckled, moving past him and taking the seat adjacent to his. It was a nice overhanging and reminded me a lot of the porch I used to sit on when I was kid. It’d be perfect if another kid wasn’t already occupying it.

“I didn’t because I wasn’t looking for you,” I answered. I looked up at him at that, meeting his eyes that were still filled with concern. “I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.”

I watched the realisation flicker over his features, before he nodded and went back to starring at his feet.

That had been our first meeting here, and at the time, I had truly wished it would be our last. 

But within a week, we had another downpour. I was calling the school, telling them my elderly neighbour had slipped and fell and needed to be taken to the hospital (again, total bull). I got off the train, walked the one block to the park, crossed the bridge and found the same sight. The boy noticed me as I had approached, this time begging with his eyes for the same thing as last week.

I had nodded at him once before taking my seat and bringing out my thermos, closing my eyes and letting the tea warm my fingers. Those mornings in the rain made me miss home more and more.

Our meetings continued like that. The rainy season brought more and more downpours, sometimes we had up to four within a week. Which meant four times I was walking down the road to find the boy sitting there starring at his feet.

Eventually, he began to move. He’d get out his homework from his bag and do that in front of me (I think he was just trying to seem like he wasn’t as much of as a slacker as his grades made him seem). Other times he’d just get out one of those portable consoles and play that for the hour. On the rare occasion, he copied me and brought a book with him, though I could see from how his eyes didn’t move that he wasn’t really reading it. Most of the time, he drew.

One day, when I had arrived to find him doing his homework like he should be, the confused expression on his face caught my attention. I glanced down at his notebook, noticing it was my own work that he was puzzling over. I really didn’t want to be a teacher when I was sitting under the overhanging. I wanted to go back to the simpler days when I could remember I was happy. I thanked him silently for not asking for my help either.

But the next time I saw him like that, I took pity on him, and got up briefly so as to sit back down beside him, asking him what he was having trouble with. 

That was the first time we had spoken to each other after our first meeting. After that, it had become easier and easier to keep a conversation going. They weren’t always about his homework, and they weren’t always lively. Sometimes they were really only made up of one word answers, but the silence, somehow, was no longer awkward. Then again, thinking back, I don’t think it had ever been awkward to begin with.

A few weeks into our visits and I crossed the bridge to find him eating, shovelling down whatever was in the box he was holding. I gave him a look that told him to chew before he swallowed at the very least. He had explained that he got home late last night and hadn’t had dinner, than had woken up late and had to buy a boxed lunch at the convenience store for breakfast. 

Then I did something that had surprised even me; I had offered to share my tea. He had accepted with the first smile I had ever seen; and with that first smile, I was absolutely smitten.

It hadn’t been a large smile. It had barely even changed his features at all. It was soft, delicate, but still reached his eyes. His green irises had shone even brighter for a brief moment, his cheeks flushed with mild excitement at the thought of something warm to accompany his cheap meal.

He had smiled even brighter when he drank it, saying it tasted ‘like the best tea he had ever had’. I had told him:

“It’s my own special blend. It changes every time, so I can’t guarantee the taste.”

I can remember so clearly the way his eyes lit up at my words, how his stunned expression stumped me for a few moments as well.

“You watch Studio Ghibli?!” He had exclaimed.

That’s when we had discovered our mutual love for all things anime, and he had even told me ‘The Cat Returns’ was one of his all-time favourites. I had mentioned that I had some of the cell skins from the original movie and I’d bring them along the next time we had a rainy day.

I think that’s where we both decided our visits were now set in stone and that we were now expecting each other’s company whenever the morning came and brought a dark sky with it. I couldn’t say I wasn’t a bit ecstatic at the thought.

I had learnt to bring two cups with me to our visits, he had learnt to pick up an extra boxed lunch on his way over once he learnt that I never ate breakfast. Imagine my surprise when he was the one scolding me for a change.

I was glad to say our meetings hadn’t seemed to change our relationship once we were both within the walls of the school. He was still a lazy student, though his grades were steadily improving in my class only, and he still talked when he wasn’t supposed to, slept when he wasn’t supposed to and was just generally the teenager he was supposed to be.

Still, we started to learn little things about each other as our visits progressed. I had asked why he had even been skipping school in the first place, to which he replied that he was having a bit of love trouble and hadn’t wanted to face them at school that day. I chuckled at that, another stab to my gut, reminding me he was still a kid, still had so much to learn.

To be fair, I had told him my reason for skipping school also, where he learnt I was from the country, but had moved to the city to be closer to my sick grandmother and make it easier to care for her. When he asked me if I missed the country, I could only say:

“More and more every day. But it’s fine.”

I think he noticed how sad I seemed when I said that.

I learnt he had an older sister in university who he absolutely loathed even at the best of times, though I knew he loved her like a brother should. He learnt that I was an only child, and my father had been a well-respected university lecturer, and so had forced me into the teaching profession as well. At least I had won out on teaching English rather than physics; I was absolutely horrible with numbers.

I learnt his father was almost the same, though the kid had a bit more resolve than me and so was determined to go to university and learn how to be a sketch artist for law enforcement, creating a solid appearance of criminal faces based off a person’s description alone. I thought that was a pretty admirable job to strive for, and so told him that. Then he had taken it upon himself to sketch me.

I had argued with him that it was cheating if he already had a reference to work off, but he was already bringing out his pencil and notebook. Suffice to say, the finished piece was the most beautiful work of art I had ever seen, and I always kept that sketch close to me, folded up neatly in my inside chest pocket. 

That was over a month ago, and even though the rainy season had ended, for some reason, we were still getting downpours every other week. I wasn’t arguing. I had come to enjoy our visits more and more, and was even checking the weather forecast in hopes of another downpour to welcome me to the side of the boy I was very slowly falling in love with.

Isn’t that a cliché for you; the teacher falling in love with the student. I hated myself for it. I hated how I wasn’t just romantically attracted to him anymore, but physically as well. I blame the time he had come late, running through the rain, dripping wet and not even wearing a sweater or coat of any kind. I had handed him a handkerchief to dry off, which he had thanked me for before unbuttoning his shirt to wring it out.

I didn’t think he was a very active kid, but his defined muscles told me otherwise. Lean, firm, tanned, flexing and wet before me, I had an extremely hard time looking him in the eyes once he had finally put his sweater on.

Mornings became awkward for me as I found myself having more cold showers than warm. Though I was ashamed to say sometimes I just didn’t even bother and gave in, imaging his breath on my face and his hand around me as I pumped myself under the sheets. 

I really did hate myself on those mornings.

Though come to think of it, I never did get that handkerchief back.

“So what blend is it today?” his voice cut through my thoughts, my memories. I snapped out of it, blinking at him and chuckling.

I reached for my bag, pulling out the thermos and the two cups, filling both to the brim and handing him his share.

“Mint jasmine,” I answered. “Delicate and beautifully fragranced, but add some sugar and the mint helps give it a sort of holiday taste; even though we’re far past Christmas.”

He smiled again at me. He was always smiling these days. I found his family was no longer bothering him and he must have been getting over his little crush because he didn’t seem to be sad over that either. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t excited at the thought that he was no longer in love with whatever girl it had been.

I watched him take a sip, his eyes closing and his cheeks turning pink as the warm liquid spread through him. I kept my own hands firmly clenched around my cup, resisting every urge I had to reach over and stroke the tinge that had covered his skin.

“Delicious,” he only said, putting the half empty cup down.

I leant my head back and closed my eyes, listening to the rain fall against the tin. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him in the rain, taste his tongue as well as the fresh rain water on his skin, feel him shiver as I let my warm fingers trail up his stomach.

My eyes flew open, my teeth biting down harshly on my tongue to stop the imagery there. It was bad enough I was thinking about him when he wasn’t around, but now I was doing it while he was right in front of me? I’m going to hell for this.

“What have you been reading lately?” he asked me. I blinked a few times, clearing my head before reaching into my bag and handing him my book. He had come to notice that I changed reading materials every week, a new title once the new weekdays started up.

“Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare,” he read aloud. “A classic this time, huh?”

“You’d do well to dive into one of them yourself every now and again. The school’s reading list doesn’t cover nearly half the books I’d assign if it were up to me,” I said, taking the book back and opening it up where I had dog-tagged the page; the death scene.

It wasn’t some cruel irony that I had chosen this book; I was reading it to remind myself how badly things could go if I ever managed to work myself into a relationship with the boy. I didn’t need that in my life, didn’t need him in my life; not in that way.

“What would you tell me to read if you had the choice then?” he enquired, having brought out his sketch book. I liked watching him draw, liked how his hand flew over the page in quick, short strokes. How his strokes got faster and faster if he liked the sketch or grew slow and uncertain if he didn’t like what he was producing. It was art in of itself to watch.

“Don’t get me started; we’d be here all day.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” I heard him mutter. I scoffed, re-reading the sentence I had been on since I had opened the damn book. 

“Just name one that stands out then,” he said, his hands drawing circles to map out the figure he was planning to create.

Several titles ran through my mind: Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Gone with the Wind, North and South. All, of course, romance novels, as I had been fixated on nothing else over the past few weeks. So I chose a novel completely off topic.

“World War Z,” I finally answered, damning the sentence entirely and just turning the page. It’s not like I hadn’t read it before.

“Isn’t that about a zombie apocalypse?” he asked as he drew lines to connect the circles together; I could see a body forming. A figure sitting down with crossed legs and holding something in its hand, its head leant back as it gazed at the sky; he was drawing me.

“It’s about more than that. It’s about the decline and fall of the human race. About how politics and the lives we live can only take us so far. About how refugees and those who are more unfortunate than ourselves may one day be our saving grace. It’s a lesson on how the world can rebuild itself not because of one person, or even because of all of us bonding together. How we can rebuild it from taking lots of little ideas and turning them into big ideas. That the world might die one day but it’ll only remain that way if we let it.”

“So it’s a story about persevering? About not giving up even when something seems impossible?”

I gave him one of my rare smiles; I saw his pencil flinch.

“How poetic of you, Eren; so you do pay attention in my class,” I mentioned, going back to my book for a moment.

It was quiet as he finished his drawing and I tried to get through the last act of my book but failed. I couldn’t help but want to watch him draw, watch his fingers move with the pencil and the lines bring a few circles and lines to life on the paper. He was drawing me from before; when I had my head back and my eyes closed. 

I could feel the blush on my cheeks as I remembered what I had been thinking about when he saw me like that. I prayed to God he’d never find out.

Though I was always wondering what would happen if he did. 

“How was your weekend?” he asked quietly, going in to add detail to the clothes. He had added a scarf.

“Busy,” I replied. “Lots of packing boxes and finding where things go and making room everywhere.”

His head shot up, his teal orbs filled with terror. I looked at him questioningly, wondering what he was suddenly so freaked out about.

“You’re moving?!” he all but screamed.

“What? No!” I quickly clarified. “My girl friend is moving in with me. She needs a place to stay until her husband gets back from America.”

His features didn’t relax, they moved from concerned to distraught.

“Your girlfriend has a husband?”

I actually had to chuckle at that.

“Girl. Friend; two different words. A friend who is a girl,” I clarified again. I realised I had chosen a few poor choices with my words while explaining; I made a horrible English teacher sometimes.

“Oh, right.”

I actually expected him to look relieved, or at the very least for his brows to finally relax. He turned to me again, his eyes still full of concern.

“Don’t you live in a one bedroom apartment?”

I stared at him, my eyes boring into his, completely stunned. I think I had mentioned that fact maybe once, if even that, but how he had clung to that information for this long baffled me.

“Yes, I do,” I confirmed. “But it was getting too close to her return date and she couldn’t find anywhere else. It’s only for a year, maybe a little more.”

“That’s going to get cramped,” he commented. I stared at him for a few more moments before turning back to my book, watching out of the corner of my eyes as he went back to his drawing.

“It’s fine,” I simply said.

In truth, I really wasn’t looking forward to it. Hanji might be one of my closest friends, but she was eccentric and energetic and not at all the clean-freak I was. Plus, the pull out couch hurt my back, though I had already insisted she take the bedroom. I really had no idea how this living situation would go but Eren was right in saying it would definitely be uncomfortable.

Sooner than I liked, our hour together ended and we both packed up our things and prepared for the walk back to the train station. I noticed he didn’t have an umbrella with him this time, so we huddled together under mine as we trekked through the slowing rain towards the station. I let him hold the umbrella while I shoved my hands into my pockets, determined not to make some stupid move and try to hold his hand.

The next few days were as sunny as they come. Eren and I were teacher and student again. I honestly tried not to smile when it was Eren’s hand that was raised with the answer to my question, though sometimes I slipped up and had to quickly look away before anyone saw. I must look like a complete idiot to my class. 

One lunch break I was crossing the grounds when I noticed Eren sitting alone, reading a book while waiting for his friends to join him. I noticed the large ‘Z’ printed across the cover, the various coloured tabs he had stuck to mark certain pages. If only he concentrated that hard on the books he was actually supposed to read; he might find he’d be graced with an ‘A’ every now and again.

~~~

“Congratulations, Levi. I’ll know you’ll do the school proud,” Dot Pixis was saying, shaking my hand. I simply nodded at him.

“I’ll certainly do my best, Sir.” 

The old man nodded at me before leaving Erwin’s office; though I guess I should call it my office now. Erwin was smiling at me too, clapping me on the shoulder now.

“You don’t need to look so grim, Levi. This is a great opportunity and you most definitely deserve it,” he was saying. I only gave him the same nod I had given the principle.

“I’m guessing your wedding arrangements are all in order?” I asked him. He chuckled at me.

“You don’t need to sound so formal with me, Levi. You’re not vice principle until I leave the room.”

I forced a smile and a laugh.

“Just practicing for the job. I have some big shoes to fill,” I told him. Erwin rolled his eyes. 

“You’ll do fine, Levi. And thank you, again,” he was smiling at me fondly now. I looked away, not wanting him to look at me like that, like he was glad I was doing him this huge favour.

“I can’t imagine leaving the school in the hands of some stranger who doesn’t know the kids at all. I just wished my fiancé’s job wasn’t tearing us away so quickly; I could’ve given you more time to adjust to the idea.”

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, running my hand over the sleek wood of my new desk. I was hoping it would suddenly burst into flames and burn to the ground. I hated this office. I hated the bare walls and the filing cabinets. I hated the lack of bookshelves and other desks. I had grown comfortable with working in my class room, and now I had a room all to myself.

Others would be happy with such a big promotion, a huge step up. But I was a man who was always comfortable with what he was given, and when I was forced to change, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end for days.

“It’s fine,” I simply said.

~~~

It didn’t rain again until the next week, and even then it was in the afternoon when everyone was going home. I don’t know why, I really wasn’t expecting Eren to be at our usual place, but I got off the train early anyway and jogged to our overhanging, my heart cleaving in two when I found it void of a certain student.

Maybe it was the sudden promotion I was forced into, maybe it was my new impending roommate, maybe it was my homesickness growing stronger and stronger as the rain continued to come, but I had been really counting on finding Eren there today. A friendly face that made my heart ache with need; beautiful eyes that made me smile more and more every time I looked at them. Not only that, but as it was after school this time; I figured we could’ve stayed as long as the sky kept sending down the rain.

But I sat down anyway, figuring he might still come. I don’t know how long I waited. I don’t know how long I adjusted my seating position, brought my book out, opened and closed it again and again, constantly finding myself turning my head at every little sound, every shift of the wind. I was now coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t coming, and I had been a fool to expect him to.

A disappointing end for a disappointing day.

I stood up, stretched out my back and legs, and opened my umbrella, ready to go home and have a drink before going to bed early. The walk back to the train station seemed longer than usual. I was looking at my feet the whole time, wishing one of the cracks I kept stepping on would crack even further and I’d fall into a deep pit that would swallow me up. I’m such a charming character, aren’t I?

I don’t know what made me look up when I did, what made me glance through the café window as I passed it. But as I saw a familiar head of hair and green eyes focused intently on the book in front of him, I was sure as hell glad I did. I hurried out of the cold and into the café, shaking off my umbrella in the foyer and putting it in the bucket next to the door. I recognised Eren’s own umbrella in it as well.

I walked up to his table, standing in front of him, waiting for him to notice me. He finally tore his eyes away from the pages of his book and looked up, his eyes widening and his face splitting into a warm grin at the sight of me. I welcomed the grin and returned it with one of my own.

He offered the seat across from him and I gladly accepted it, bringing out my own book and ordering a cup of coffee when the waitress came around. Neither of us said anything the entire time we were there. But it was like all those other times we didn’t speak. It was comfortable. It was warm. It was familiar; just like I liked. 

We both mutually agreed to leave together. 

“Can I share your umbrella again? I forgot mine back at school,” Eren asked as we were putting on our coats. I didn’t know why I didn’t call him out on it. Or rather, I didn’t want to admit that I was excited at the prospect of walking so close to him again.

We both arrived at the train station, huddled together and hunching our shoulders at the random gusts of wind that kept coming through. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt us step even closer to each other as we waited for our respective trains on the platform. I knew it was stupid, I knew it was horrible of me to want to ask, but I was convincing myself it wouldn’t be so bad, that it was a completely innocent notion. It wouldn’t be so far out of line; I could easily say we were both good friends at this point.

Maybe it was the sudden promotion I was forced into, maybe it was my new impending roommate, maybe it was my homesickness growing stronger and stronger as the rain continued to come, but I didn’t want to leave Eren’s side; not yet.

“Eren,” I got his attention. His eyes turned away from the sky, looking down at me with those beautiful eyes. “I noticed your shirt is sopping wet again. Do you want to come back to my place to dry off? You could stay for dinner?”

I was rewarded with another one of his beautiful smiles, the ones that truly brighten his features and make his eyes shine. 

~~~

“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you mentioned you had a lot of packing to get done,” Eren commented as he stepped back into my small living room. 

I looked up from my place in the adjoining kitchen, my heart doing a sort of summersault at the sight of him in my pyjamas. The loose sweatshirt and sagging pants didn’t do anything to hide his figure, how broad his shoulders were, how tanned his skin was. I would’ve given him something else, but the clothes I kept for sleeping were the only clothes that would fit him. 

I reminded myself again and again that as soon as Eren left in his clean and dry uniform, those pyjamas were going straight into the laundry hamper, that I wouldn’t keep them for my own sick amusement. I reminded myself that I wouldn’t hold them close to my skin and breathe in his scent once the apartment was dark and there was nothing to keep me company but the awful sounds of the city outside.

“You don’t realise how much stuff you can attain over the years until your trying to cram it all into six or seven boxes,” I replied. 

“We went through the same trouble when we moved,” Eren commented, coming up behind me. “Do you need any help?”

“Yes, if you can batter the prawns, that’d be great. I hate getting my hands dirty,” I stepped aside, moving over to slice the vegetables while Eren got to work covering the prawns in the grimy stuff. Tempura prawns may be easy and delicious, but they were messy, which meant I didn’t make them very often.

“Where did you move from?” I asked him, cutting a capsicum in half. The smell of the fresh vegetable wafted up, mixing with the smell of the rain in the air. Both Eren and I had opted to keep the balcony door open, letting the cool breeze flow through the otherwise stuffy apartment.

“A small town just outside the city,” he replied, dropping in a few prawns and mixing them around with his fingers. “Despite how big this place is, I found the transaction wasn’t so hard. It was when I was younger anyway, so I didn’t have a lot of people to miss when I left.”

“Did your family move her for business or pleasure?” I shouldn’t be asking these questions. They were far from personal in a general sense, but they were personal to me. Learning new things about Eren sent me on a high that took me hours to calm down from, the various things he told me swimming around in my head for hours and hours after they left his lips. 

I liked listening to his voice too; it was so different from mine. Smooth, sweet, expressive, eccentric. It rose and dipped and flowed as he spoke, always matching the contrast of the conversation perfectly, putting me at ease no matter what mood I had previously been in.

“Kind of both,” he answered as he brought the prawns out and placed them in the pan. The prawns sizzled and crackled in the oil, spitting the hot liquid at him. He didn’t seem to notice, the long sleeves of my shirt protecting him. “Dad wanted a change of scenery; our old town reminded him of too much of mum. But he said it was a good idea to move here anyway; kept telling me the schools were better here.”

I nodded in agreement while I slipped the now sliced capsicum to the side and started on the carrots. 

“You grew up out in the country, right? Does that mean you were home-schooled?” he asked softly, finishing more prawns and adding them to the others. I flinched as a bit of oil spat on my face.

“Far from it,” I said, wiping the oil off my cheek. “My mum was always sick when I was little; she had me then instantly fell down with this incurable disease. Nobody could tell what it was. My dad had a tough time raising me on his own, so as soon as I was old enough, he shipped me off to boarding school over-seas.”

“So you’ve studied abroad?” Eren asked, his tone telling me he was rather excited to hear about my adventures. I was sorry to disappoint him.

“I suppose so; I didn’t like it any more than I liked moving to the city once I had graduated. The sky was always grey, the uniforms were itchy, there wasn’t any plant life anywhere. Our school didn’t even have a courtyard or a garden. I forgot how bright flowers could be when I came home for the holidays. But I never fought my dad on it, as he did seem to be a little happier he didn’t have to worry about me so much. Mum never did get better though.”

I watched Eren’s hand out of the corner of my eye turn over the prawns in the pan. I finished up cutting the vegetables and slipped them into a pot to boil. It wasn’t a very interesting meal; but Eren had said he enjoyed seafood. This was the best I could do with what I had at my disposal.

It was silent between us for a moment, the only sound was the wind wailing outside and the large raindrops hitting my balcony floor. I always liked the sound of the rain; I was glad this apartment had a pretty open view and allowed me to watch it whenever it came in. 

I turned to Eren, who seemed to be concentrating on something, and I had a feeling it wasn’t the prawns. I kept looking at his face, at the way his eyes seemed so determined; his lips kept twitching, as if he wanted to say something.

“Levi,” he started. I shivered slightly at the sound of my name rolling of his tongue. I had already told him earlier he didn’t have to call me ‘Mr. Rivaille’ when we were alone. It was too formal, too much of a reminder of why I could never take our relationship to exactly where I wanted it to go. I turned to him finally, staring at him almost as hard as he was now staring at me.

“When was the last time you haven’t sacrificed yourself? When was the last time you did something that made you happy?”

The question stumped me. I had no idea where he was coming from, why he was asking me such a thing. Sure, I wouldn’t call myself elated at how my life had turned out, but I was always reminding myself it could be a lot worse. I could have a horrible paying job and live in a crappy apartment on the wrong end of town. I could work at a school that didn’t have students who respected their teachers. I could have been born another thirty years earlier instead of the fifteen I already was that was keeping me apart from Eren. 

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“Well, you went to boarding school willingly and moved to the city for your grandmother, even though you hate it here and miss the country all the time. You became a teacher for your father, even though you never had any interest in the profession. You’re letting you friend move in with you, even though you don’t like close quarters and you already live in a small, one bedroom apartment. You accepted that job from Mr. Smith, even though you like your job and where you are now,” he finished. I could see him gripping my counter, could see his brows furrow harder and harder as he continued to speak. His eyes were filled with so much concern for me; concern I didn’t deserve.

“Can’t you tell me about a time in your life when you were happy? Not just content, but truly and completely happy?”

I turned back to the vegetables, swirling them around in the hot water before turning off the heat and moving them to the sink to drain.

“It’s fine,” I told him, dismissing his every word completely. “The food is ready.”

The subject was never brought up again as we ate, and I managed to get him talking comfortably about ‘World War Z’. He even went so far as to bring out the book from his bag, showing me the pages he had bookmarked, already having so many things he wanted to discuss with me. All his topics ranged from the way the literature was written from the characters themselves to what the characters were discussing on the certain pages. I was so impressed with his analysis of the book, how he had really taken into account what I had told him about it.

It was so easy too; talking to him about this. I couldn’t remember the last time I had such an in-depth conversation about books and the stories and wisdom they held beyond just the words printed on the pages. His voice carried me through each argument he started, each point he was trying to make. If he just sat there, saying all he had to say, I’d be happy to listen. Close my eyes and dose off to everything he was telling me.

A roll of thunder ripped our attention away from one of the last chapters. We both glanced at the sky, which had grown completely black. The rain was coming down harder than ever now. It was beautiful; watching the water fall in turrets from the sky, landing on my balcony in heavy bursts, sending more and more water over the edge, back towards the road below.

Suddenly, Eren dropped the book, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet, heading straight for the open balcony door.

“Wait, Eren! What are you doing?” I exclaimed, resisting his pull.

“C’mon!” He encouraged, attempting to pull me along. He may be well built, but I was still the stronger between us. I managed to keep him from pulling me beyond the door and out into the falling sky. “You’ve never experienced the rain until you’ve felt it first-hand!”

I thought he was ridiculous. I thought his idea was absurd. Who willingly stood out in that kind of weather, getting themselves soaked and freezing themselves in the blaring wind? But as I looked at his eyes, his smile, his face, felt the warmth of his hand around my fingers, gazed up at his soft features and the beauty he was radiating; I couldn’t help but think he was completely right.

I stepped out into the cold with him, our hands still firmly clasped together. The wind blew right into our faces, the heavy rain drenched us almost instantly. Our clothes clung to our skin for a few moments before the wind came through and lifted our shirts up, the fabric billowing out behind us. 

I looked up at the sky, felt the rain pour onto my face. It felt so nice; so wonderful. He was right; I had never experienced the rain completely until now. I gripped his hand tighter. Then Eren began to laugh; and if I thought his voice was beautiful, it was nothing compared to the sound that was pouring from his throat now. 

It cut through the howling wind, made me clench my chest with my free hand, my lips rising up and my own laughter falling from my mouth. We must have seemed deranged to anybody looking at us from their windows across the road, must have seemed ridiculous, getting wet in our clothes and clenching each other’s hands, refusing to let go.

I felt my heart beating erratically under my hand; my laughter, my happiness, the feeling of Eren so warm and close beside me, all adding to my elation, my uplifting feeling swelling within my chest, my happiness.

I don’t know how long we both stood there, gazing up at the sky, letting the rain plaster our hair to our foreheads and our clothes to our skin. Eventually, the rain died completely, and we both went back inside, laughing and joking and shoving each other’s shoulders. Our hands never separated. 

“That felt amazing!” I exclaimed breathlessly, pushing my hair out of my face, the wet strands standing on end. “I want to do that again,” I turned to Eren to say, looking him right in the eyes as I did. “I want to do that again with you.”

Eren’s smile was so intoxicating to watch, so lovely to see on his perfect features. The rain may have stopped but the wind still blew, shifting Eren’s damp strands out of his bright, shining eyes. 

“Levi,” he began, clenching my hand harder in his. I could only return the gesture. “I love you.”

The wind stopped. The city stopped. The clouds stopped. My own breathing stopped. I almost felt like time itself stopped.

How long had I waited to hear those words? How many times had I dreamed of him whispering that against my skin? How long had I been staring at Eren with the exact same thought swirling around and around in my head? How much strength had I taken to be able to stop myself from blurting those words out time and time again?

It wasn’t just the words themselves; but what they represented. Because saying those words meant I no longer had to be idle with watching from afar. I could fall into Eren’s arms right now, hold him close to me as I placed my lips on his over and over again. I could tell him the same thing, right into his ear, feel his muscles shudder underneath my fingers as I did. We’d be together, him and I, just like I had so desperately hoped for for so long.

And how wrong it had been to hope for such a thing.

I was twice Eren’s age. He had barely even started his life, and I was in the middle of mine. I had a job, a job teaching him. He was my student, I was his teacher. If anyone found out, it would have detrimental consequences for the both of us. 

If, even for a moment, I forgot about everyone else, I still couldn’t return his feelings. I had to think about what I’d be doing to him. I told myself I loved him again and again, but what kind of person would I be to promise that and then tie him down. I knew Eren, I knew his resolve, his actions, his habits; he’d tie himself to me. He’d be stuck in the same place for the rest of his life; I had no where I could turn and he had the entire world open for him.

I slowly, regrettably, pried my fingers from his hand. I couldn’t look at him, could only look at his chest, at his heart that I’d never hold, never own, never even touch.

“I think you should go home now, Eren,” I said softly. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear the pain in my voice or how my heart shattered as I sounded each syllable.

The silence in the room was drowning me. I couldn’t breathe as I waited for him to react. I was thankful to him, thankful that he had come into my life, even if it was only for a brief time. I was thankful he had shown me what happiness felt like, thankful that I now had the courage to go search for it on my own. My biggest regret was that it wouldn’t be with him by my side.

I watched as Eren turned away from me, went to go change back into his school clothes, though I knew they’d still be slightly damp. I kept staring at the floor as I listened to him retrieve his things, open the door and leave through it, the resounding click as it shut again making me flinch, made the first tears fall.

My knees hit the floor, my hands covered my face as I tried to make it all go away. The ringing in my ears from my shattered heart, the pain I felt as a part of me was taken away out that door, the feeling of believing I’d never feel this kind of love again. 

My hands moved from my face, moving to my chest and clawing at the fabric of my shirt, trying to rip out the source of it all, the source of the agonising ache that flooded through my veins and made me feel like my skin was throbbing. 

Maybe I would’ve stopped crying after a few minutes if it weren’t for the mountain of tears that had already built up over the course of my life, the weight of everything I had sacrificed over the years finally falling down upon my shoulders. And now I had sacrificed the most important thing I had ever obtained; though when had I ever truly had Eren to love like I wanted to?

“When was the last time you haven’t sacrificed yourself? When was the last time you did something that made you happy?”

“I’ve never not sacrificed myself,” my broken words came.

“Can’t you tell me about a time in your life when you were happy? Not just content, but truly and completely happy?”

“Yes,” I answered him truthfully. “It was with you. Every time I saw you sitting on that bench waiting for me. Every time you looked at me with the feeling I only hope I was looking back at you with. You made me happy. You made me so happy!”

I was on my feet and out the door before I even realised what I was doing, what I was about to do, what I was about to say. I took the stairs two at a time. The stairs ran along the outside of the building, meaning they had been rained on. They were tiled, which meant they were slippery. I had no grip under my feet, and this proved to me again and again as I repeatedly missed breaking my nose just barely. But I was too desperate to care, too desperate to mind.

I had come only three stories down, or maybe it was four, I hadn’t been counting, but I turned the corner and there he was, leaning against the thick railing of the staircase, his shoulders shaking with the effort it took to get out his gasping sobs. 

I don’t know if I made a sound, called his name or my own heavy breathing was what made him turn towards me. I had always loved his eyes, and it was sick of me to think that they were still beautiful even when they were in pain. 

“I fell in love with you the day you looked at me in class and told me I ‘had a knack for synonyms’,” he told me, his eyes firm, his lips unwavering despite his still falling tears. I couldn’t for the life of me remember when that was, but it was definitely far before our meetings had begun. He had been in love with me this whole time?

“The person I was in love with, the person I was avoiding on that day you found me skipping school; it was you. I didn’t know how to handle the feelings, I didn’t want to spend all morning looking at you anymore, so I skipped my first class. But you showed up anyway. That’s your fault!”

He was yelling at me now, his body completely turned to me, his shoulders hunched and his face covered with pain and fear, his brows furrowed with the effort it took to let all of this out.

“You didn’t have to keep showing up either! You could’ve found another spot! But you kept coming! It’s your fault I ended up falling even more in love with you than I already was!”

Beautiful when he was happy, when he was in pain, when he was angry. When was he never beautiful?

“You know what’s also your fault? How you’re always thinking of others before yourself!” The words stung, but I didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just kept staring at his distraught expression.

“I’m sure your friend would’ve found another place! I’m sure Mr. Smith would’ve been happy with whatever vice principle they managed to get in! I’m sure your father would’ve lived with whatever career you had chosen to strive for! You never complained! You never fought! But that doesn’t make it any better!”

Why did the truth hurt so much, even when I had known it all along?

“The worst part is that I know you love me too! But you’re too scared of being happy to say so! Why? What would it hurt if you let yourself win for once?”

He kept talking, kept asking questions, kept yelling at me. I was tired of it, tired of listening to him. I leapt forward, flying over the last two steps like they were nothing, sliding on the tiles right into Eren’s chest, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and pulling his lips down to mine.

I kissed him so hungrily I was afraid I’d hurt him, but my fears abated as I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and pull my body into his, our wet clothes clinging together just as we clung to each other. I was on my toes, pushing up into his lips, my tongue slipping between them, finally tasting him and breathing heavily at the utter pleasure it brought me.

His tongue was hesitant at first, and it occurred to me this may very well be his first kiss. That only made me kiss him harder, lapping at the inside of his mouth, coaxing him out of his shyness. It didn’t take much. Soon his hands were sliding under my shirt, his warms hands trailing up my skin. I shivered at his touch, cupping his jaw and biting his bottom lip, listening to his small whimpers as we continued to kiss the life out of each other.

As soon as it had stopped, the rain started again. It fell heavily down onto the earth, the air around us grew colder, I could feel the goose bumps rise on his skin, but it only made him hold me tighter, closer to him, as if he was shielding me from the very thing I had come to love almost as much as I loved him.

I don’t know how long we stood there, mapping out the insides of each other’s mouths. He ran his hands up and down my back so many times I was sure my skin would never stop tingling. I raked my fingers through his damp hair so hard, the strands sticking up in every which way. Eventually, I pulled away, tracing his lips lightly with the tip of my tongue, holding his face and stroking his cheeks with my thumbs.

“I do love you,” I whispered breathily against his moist lips. I was so happy to think they were moist because of my own mouth and not because of the rain that kept pelting down around us. 

I felt his arms shift, felt them anchor themselves around my waist and pull me to him tightly. I tucked my own arms under his, wrapping them around his chest and leaning heavily against him. I felt his lips touch my hair, felt him breathe me in as I pressed my nose to his shoulder and did the same. 

~~~

I don’t want to admit to myself that I felt so relieved when we were naked together. I don’t want to say that my body cried with gratifying pleasure as I sank down on him. I don’t want anybody to know how utterly lost I was at the feeling of him inside me, pushing up into me, his body splayed out underneath me.

If I thought he was beautiful any of those other times, then he was a complete God when he was writhing with pleasure before me. He whined and moaned as I rolled my hips down onto his, his hands gripped my sides as I moved on him, his fingers leaving small bruises and crescent shaped marks where they had dug into my skin. 

I was so happy when he gazed up at me, when he never took his eyes off me the entire time we were connected. I was so happy when he told me he loved me again and again, those three words continuing to fall from his lips, either in whispers or in great cries. I bent down to suck on his collar, leaving my teeth imprinted on his shoulder where his shirt would cover it later. 

He tried to sit up at one point to kiss me, and he managed for a while, our tongues dancing together in a way that had no rhyme or reason but felt so incredible anyway. But first times were hard and he was lying back on my pillows soon enough, utterly spent while I finished us both off. He only tore his eyes away from my face when I gripped myself, pumping slow and firm while I continued to lift myself up and down on him.

Somehow, we fell together. He whined my name and I cried his. I sat on him for a moment afterwards, my head fallen back as I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about anything in that moment. I didn’t want to do anything other than that over and over again, but only with him.

He was in my arms now, snoring softly against my chest, his hair tickling my chin. I traced the bones and muscles in his back while he slept. I kissed his hair and combed through it with the same hand that had been touching his soft skin, my other hand occupied with keeping his fingers interlocked with mine as our hands rested on my abdomen.

Maybe this was the one thing I should’ve sacrificed. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone after Eren. Maybe I should’ve picked another aspect of my life to become mine. At least, that’s what I should’ve been thinking. But I couldn’t bring myself to doubt my decision. Eren was warm, beautiful and even though he was taller than me, he felt so very small, cuddled up to my chest, his eyelids twitching as he dreamed.

I knew we were moving too fast, that all this shouldn’t have happened tonight. But Eren had told me he was ready, and I had firmly believed him. I could tell from his eyes, those expressive green eyes, that he hadn’t just said it because he thought he wanted it or because he had wanted to please me. Eren was just as happy with this pace as I was.

Hell, if he asked me to marry him tomorrow morning, I’d probably say yes. 

Eren stirred against me, his dark lashes fluttering open, his head moving so he could look at me. I gave him a smile, pressing my lips to his forehead, to his eyelids, to his cheek, the corner of his mouth and finally his lips.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” Eren murmured. I could tell he was still exhausted, despite how much I had taken over. That had been my choice though and I didn’t blame him for wanting to sleep more. 

“You’re beautiful,” I could only say before kissing him again, long and lingering and simple. I couldn’t help it; I had been waiting to tell him that for so long.

“You’re amazing,” he replied, brushing his nose against mine, breathing softly, his breath fanning over my face.

Eren didn’t want to leave that night, and as his first lover, first kiss, first everything, I could understand. He rang his parents and told them he had lost track of time studying at a friend’s place and didn’t want to try getting home now because of the storm. He wasn’t completely lying.

After that, both of us were wide awake, so took to the living room where we spread out on the couch and turned on the television. Neither of us were listening to whatever was on though, too preoccupied with pressing our lips to each other’s and running our hands over each other’s faces. Eren was so warm on top of me, both of us having only put our boxer shorts back on, wanting to revel in each other’s bodies as long as we could.

“Am I too heavy?” he had enquired at one point. Maybe he was, I really couldn’t tell and I really didn’t care.

“It’s fine,” I said, my fingers threading through his hair and pulling him in for another kiss. He pulled away only moments after.

“We can switch if I am,” he pleaded his case. I chuckled, kneading the back of his head and watched as his face relaxed and he went back to lying on my shoulder, nuzzling his forehead into my neck.

“It’s fine,” I said again. “I mean it this time.”


End file.
